Young Blood
by Veronica Violet
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Miles Matheson promised that he'd get his daughter, Charlie, out of her abusive mothers custody. Ten years ago she realized that he wasn't coming for her. Five years ago she ran away. Now she's twenty years old, cold and jaded. When she meets Sebastian Monroe, she starts to believe that she can leave the past in the past - until she meets his best friend.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This has been bashing around the inside of my skull for ages, so I finally decided to put it down on paper, even though honestly, I'm way too busy. This has changed from the original version a lot. But I finally think it's right.

Connor was trying to set her up. Again. But this time was different.

"Let me get this straight. You're trying to hook me up...with your dad?"

"... When you say it like that it sounds weird."

"It sounds weird no matter how you say it, Connor. Because it is weird."

"Look, he's not really my dad. I met him like a year ago -"

"He's still biologically related to you."

"And," Connor ignored her, "he's really hot."

Charlie stared at him. "I'm going to give you a moment to reflect on the wrongness of that statement."

"Oh, shut up Char. It's not an incest thing, it's an I have eyes thing. He's hot. He's also your type."

"Old and rich. Wow. Thanks for making me sound like a hooker. I appreciate it. Really."

"You know I didn't mean it like that. You like it when you have someone like you. Lonely. Secretive. Won't make you talk about your past."

"Yeah, that's what you're for."

"Sorry, but I'm not enough. You, Cristina, are fifty shades of fucked up." Charlie winced when he used her fake name, but he didn't notice.

"I told you not to use my full name."

"Also, I can't give you a screaming orgasm."

"Well, I'm sure you could."

"I'm gay, remember?"

"That doesn't mean you lack the ability."

"Come on Charlie. Just come back with me for Christmas break. You're going to mope around campus otherwise. If you don't like him I swear I won't push it."

"Yes, you will." Charlie grumbled, rolling off her bed anyway. "Where's my suitcase?"

Letting out a very girly squeal, her best friend hugged her.

"That's great, Charlie. Just hold and... Got it. Now - oh, that's great. With your skirts pooling around you like that? Perfect. Gorgeous. Very damsel in distress."

Nora clicked away as Charlie fell to her knees dramatically, letting her translucent white skirts flow around her. Modeling might not be the best job, but it paid enough to cover what little of her tuition wasn't covered by her scholarship, as well as the rent for the apartment she shared with Connor. They also let her keep the clothes, which was a definite plus. Although, she wasn't sure where she would wear today's outfit. A tight black skirt under a black leather corset and a long skirt made of layers of floaty white gauze paired with high black boots, it was vaguely princess like and completely over the top.

Other than Connor, Nora was probably the closest thing to a friend that Charlie had. She was her both agent and photographer, since she claimed that she knew how to get the best pictures of Charlie.

"Okay - what's wrong?"

"What?" Charlie looked up at her. "Nothing, I'm fine"

"Really? I finished ten minutes ago and you're still sitting on the floor."

Looking up, Charlie saw that all the camera equipment was packed up. She got to her feet, wincing at the stiffness in her legs. "Sorry. Lost in thought."

"Obviously. Care to tell?"

"Connor's trying to set me up."

"Doesn't he do that every other week?"

"With his dad."

Instead of being shocked, like Charlie expected, Nora tilted her head and looked at her. "You and Monroe? Yeah, I can see it."

"Wait, you know him?"

Nora nodded, bending down to pick up her bag. "We went to high school together. I dated his best friend for a while."

"Really?" Charlie paused, then, "Is he hot? Connor said he was hot."

Nora laughed. "He's gorgeous. And he knows it. You'll have to tell me what happens between you two. Merry Christmas!" she called as she walked out the door.

"How are you?"

Broken, sad, lonely, hurt, upset, alone, depressed, suicidal, angry, hateful, breaking down, screaming, dead, empty, nothing, crying, shouting, giving up, hiding, wearing a mask, horrible, down, hollow, worthless, misunderstood, incapable, distressed, lost pathetic, ashamed, bitter, fake, uneasy, tense, dominated, pessimistic, distrustful, tearful, crushed, offended, aching, wronged, shaky, timid, wary, victimized, tortured, pained, lifeless, cold, dull, nervous, scared, suspicious, alienated, numb, stressed, bruised, jaded, gone.

Like always, all of these answers flashed through her mind, and like always she just said, "I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm good. But you know that. Come on Charlie, how are you really?"

"I'm okay, Danny. Don't worry. I'm going home with Connor over winter break, and I'm fairly certain that I passed all my finals. They don't know that you know where I am?"

"No. All that's great Charlie, really."

"And they don't - they haven't -"

"They haven't hurt me Charlie." Like they hurt you. They both thought it, but neither said it out loud.

"They... Mom and dad... Maybe they changed. Maybe...you could come back?" Danny suggested timidly.

"No!" It came out harsher than she meant. Softening her voice, she added, "I can't go back there. Not now. Maybe not ever."

"I get it. I do. I just miss you."

"I know kid. I miss you too."

The front door opened and Connor yelled down the hall. "Food!"

"Listen, I've got to go. I love you."

"Love you too."

Hanging up, she walked into the kitchen. Connor tossed a carton of Chinese food at her. "Hurry up and eat. We leave in half an hour."

She grinned at him. "Not giving me a chance to back out?"

"Of course not."


	2. Chapter 2

It was official. Charlie hated cars. It was a five hour drive to Connor's dads place, and she spent four of them in utter misery. It seemed like the winding roads were especially designed to make her carsick. On the fifth hour, after she finally convinced Connor to stop at a gas station so she could get nausea medicine, she managed to drift off - only to be poked awake five minutes later because they were there.

Groggily, Charlie hauled her suitcase and guitar out of the trunk and followed Connor to the house in front of them.

It was a nice house, she had to admit. Big and white, the inside was decorated in a pleasant but impersonal way, all matchy-matchy colors that screamed, "an interior designer was hired here".

"Knock knock," Connor singsonged. "Dad? You here?"

A slightly deeper male voice replied, "In the kitchen."

"So, you haven't seen me in months, and you can't even be bothered to come to the next room to greet me? I feel loved," Connor drawled sarcastically.

As they walked into the kitchen, the other man rolled his eyes. And, okay, Connor and Nora had a point. Sebastian Monroe was stunning. With perfectly messy dark blonde curls and striking turquoise blue eyes, paired with tan skin and lean muscles, he was completely daydream inducing. Low slung, dark wash jeans hung of his hips, and he wore a black button up with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons undone.

Looking at her, his mildly amused expression replaced with one of pure shock. "Charlie?"

Panic flooded Charlie's mind, accompanied by one thought;

He knows me.

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Bass POV

Bass was putting pizza in the oven and quietly freaking out about Connor staying with him for Christmas when he heard the door open and Connor call, "Knock knock. Dad? You here?"

"In the kitchen," he answered.

Connor strolled in. "So, you haven't seen me in months, and you can't even be bothered to come into the next room to greet me? I feel loved."

Yep, that's my kid. Rolling his eyes he turned around and almost fainted. The most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen stood awkwardly behind Connor. Long, honey blonde curls clung to golden skin, and strangely familiar pale blue eyes stared right back at him. An emerald green crop top (In December. Only in California.) and tight designer jeans molded to her body like a second skin. She was tiny, really, barely 5'5", but she had a presence - and a pair of high heeled black boots - that made her seem taller.

But Connor didn't say... unless "Charlie" was a girl. This girl. "Charlie?"

She didn't answer, just looked at him with a sort of controlled panic. Odd. Luckily, Connor answered for her.

"Dad, allow me to introduce you to Cristina Joy Mathis. She goes by Charlie."

Okay. Charlie's a girl. "It's nice to finally meet you, Christina."

She looked him in the eye. "A pleasure, Sebastian. I've heard stories about you."

"Surely they're not all bad?"

Charlie smiled. "Wouldn't bet on it. Nora has some interesting tales." In all honesty, Nora hadn't said much, but something in the older women's voice made her think that she wasn't too off base.

True to her suspicions, Monroe winced. "Fuck. Nora Clayton? Ignore anything she tells you. It's all lies."

Charlie laughed, a real laugh, something that didn't happen very often. Connor, looking like a little kid on Christmas, grabbed her arm. "We're going to go unpack see you in a little bit bye," he blurted all in one breath, before dragging Charlie out of the room.

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"You liked him. Oh my god, you two are totally crushing on one another. This is great. I should start a matchmaking service. I'm awesome. You're welcome."

Charlie watched in bemusement as Connor sprawled happily across his bed. "Are you a thirteen year old girl trapped in a twenty four year olds body?" she queried. He threw a pillow at her.

By now Charlie had dismissed the irrational fear that Monroe knew her, and Bass had forgotten how familiar her eyes looked.

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Later that night they went out to a bar owned by Bass's friend Jeremy. The four - including Jeremy - hung out for a couple hours, catching up and getting to know each other.

"Go easy on that," Jeremy warned as Charlie finished her fourth drink. "It's strong."

Connor and Charlie looked at each other. "Don't worry," Connor drawled, "she can handle it."

Charlie grinned and toasted them. "Fight like a Mathis, fuck like a Mathis, drink like a Mathis."

Not noticing the looks the two older men were giving her, she turned to Connor, "Come on, I love this song," and dragged him onto the dance floor.

"Did you...?" Bass trailed off, eyes fixed on Charlie.

"Notice how hot she was?" Jeremy finished obliviously. "Duh."

Turning to him, Bass raised an eyebrow. "Girl in her twenties, goes by Charlie, knows the Matheson code."

Jeremy stared at him. "You think she's... her? No. No way. She works with Nora, right? Probably she just told her when she saw the way she drinks."

Bass didn't look convinced. "Take Rachel, rewind twenty five years, add a tan and darker, longer hair, and you have her."

"She's too old. Connor's known her for, what? Four years? She's a senior at UCLA, at least twenty four."

"Could be lying."

"You really want to get Mile's hopes up over a similar name, mutual friend and vague resemblance to Rachel?" They both knew that Miles always got depressed after a false Charlie sighting.

"No," Bass said finally. "I just wish he could find her, and I guess I'm just seeing things."

**AN: So? Did you like chapter two? Did you like Jeremy? And Bass? And the little bit of Charloe? Do you like Connor? He's my favorite character to write. Everyone should have a stereotypical gay friend. They're so much fun. Hope you enjoyed, review please! Next chapter I'm thinking will be mostly flashbacks, but we'll see. I might put them in later.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: This chapters all flashbacks. It explains some of Charlie's history, although they're all from Bass's POV. (Warning; MAJOR Rachel bashing. She's very evil stepmother.)**

Fifteen years ago. Charlie is five. Bass is thirty.

"So, what's your kid even like?" Bass wondered aloud.

Next to him, Miles sighed. "She's wonderful. A little blonde angel - she'll be a heartbreaker in a few years - and beyond sweet, and a Matheson all the way through. Stubborn and argumentive and doesn't take shit from anyone."

Amused, Bass glanced at him, "You realize she's only five, right? All five year olds are like that."

"Shut up."

"Seriously, then, what's the problem? You're freaking out."

"No, I'm not."

"Miles, if you grip the steering wheel any tighter, it's going to fall off."

Miles sighed. "It's Rachel."

"And I don't care anymore."

"Bass..."

"Seriously Miles, I do not dislike that woman. I fucking hate the bitch. With her holier than thou attitude and extreme self-righteousness personality complex, what in gods name did you ever see in -"

"She abuses Charlie."

Bass felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "That... what? Are... you sure?"

"Not physically. Just... she never pays attention to her. Neglect is abuse, right? Charlie feeds herself, and takes care of herself and walks herself to and from school, and puts herself to bed. And when Rachel does pay attention to her, it's to tell her she's not good enough or she's doing whatever it is wrong and she will never amount to anything."

"That's..." Bass was still having trouble forming full sentences. "What about Ben?"

Mile's jaw clenched. "He's too wrapped up in his work. I try to mention it to him, and he says Charlie's just 'a very independent kid.'"

"Jesus," Bass ran a hand through his hair. "Are you going to ask for custody?"

Miles nodded. "I'm going to talk to Rachel about it tonight. I'm hoping she won't fight me."

Bass laughed humorlessly. "That'll happen."

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Miles and Bass pulled into the driveway and observed the house before them. It was nice. Two stories, pastel yellow with white trim and shutters. A white wrap around porch dominated the front and right side, complete with a porch swing and little pink tricycle. Immaculate flower beds were placed artistically in the perfectly trimmed emerald green grass. They were only missing the white picket fence.

A large oak tree grew near the side of the lawn, and a swing hung from one of the branches. On this swing a little girl sat, dejectedly poking the ground with a stick. When Miles saw her, his face lit up.

"Charlie!"

The girl spun around and her entire demeanor changed. With a shriek of, "Daddy!" she launched herself into Miles arms. They clung to each other, then Charlie looked at Bass. Regarding him seriously, she informed him, "This is my weekend with Daddy. You can have him back next week."

Grinning, Miles told her,"Charlie, this is my friend Sebastian. You have to share me this weekend. Bass, say hello. "

"Hello Charlotte. It's nice to finally meet you."

Without missing a beat, Charlie replied, "Hello Bastian. It's nice to meet you too."

"Just call me Bass, Charlotte."

"Just call me Charlie, Bastian."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Miles. "Daddy, will you take me and Bastian to the zoo?"

Miles grinned. "Go get your coat."

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The day had gone downhill from the moment them got back to the house. Rachel had been there waiting for them. Turning to Charlie with cold eyes, she commanded, "Go get changed for dinner."

With a hurried, "Yes mother," Charlie disappeared up the stairs.

Rachel then turned to him. "Sebastian."

"Rachel. I'd say it's nice to see you, but I'm not a very good liar."

Narrowing her eyes, she swept out without another word.

Dinner was a subdued affair. Charlie - dressed in an uncomfortable looking pink dress and shiny black shoes - picked at her dinner as Miles and Rachel glared at one another and Bass made stilted small talk with Ben. After about half an hour of this, Charlie murmured, "May I please be excused?"

At Rachel's stiff nod, Charlie grabbed her little brothers hand and ran out of the room.

But the trouble didn't really start until much later, when Miles asked Rachel about custody. And the obligatory screaming match began.

Bass tired of it within five minutes, and wandered off upstairs. When he got to the top of the stairs, however, he stopped. Charlie sat on the landing, watching her parents scream at one another.

"Hey, Charlotte," he said wearily, "what you doing?"

"Listening," was all she said in reply.

"Look, kid," Bass started, feeling bad for her, "your parents -"

"My parents hate each other," Charlie interrupted. "Just cause I'm little doesn't mean I don't understand things, Bastian. Daddy wants me to come live with him. Mother doesn't."

"Well, what do you want?"

She was quiet for a long time, then whispered, "I want someone to love me. That's all."

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Ten years ago. Charlie is ten. Bass is thirty five.

Miles didn't show. They were supposed to go out drinking with Jeremy, have fun. They didn't see Miles much anymore, after they moved to the west coast to open a new bar, and Miles had stayed in Chicago with the old venue. But it was ten thirty, and The Republic, although packed, didn't hold Miles Matheson.

Grumbling to himself, Bass trudged over to Miles hotel and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he pulled out the key card Miles had given him because he always lost his.

Stepping into the room, the first thing he noticed was Miles, sitting on the couch. The next thing was that his brother did not look good. A phone in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other, he didn't even look up when Bass came in.

"Miles? What happened?" When Miles didn't answer, he asked again, "Brother? What the hell is wrong?"

"She tried to kill herself," his voice was empty, blank. "and Rachel didn't even tell me. Ben called me. After she got out. She's ten, Bass. What ten year old is so miserable they try to kill themselves?"

Flashing back to that sad little girl at the top of the stairs, he could believe it. He could believe that after five more years of being ignored, and humiliated, and treated like nothing, she would try to end it. Miles didn't understand the total helplessness, the desperation for peace that drove you to and off the edge. Bass did.

After Miles had asked for custody, Rachel had flown into a rage. She made sure that he got no say in what happened to his own daughter, pulling out every excuse in the book, from his job to his PTSD to his "codependency" on Bass. Miles hadn't seen Charlie since she was five, yet he still remembered every first day of school, sent presents every birthday and Christmas (Bass didn't have the heart to tell him Rachel probably never gave them to her), searched online for every school play or singing recital in the hopes that someone had recorded it. He was a good dad. And Charlie would never know. And Bass knew that no words could possibly fix this

So he sat next to Miles in silence.

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Five years ago. Charlie is fifteen. Bass is forty.

Bass was getting ready for work when the phone rang. It was Miles.

"Can you watch the bar in Chicago for a couple days?"

"Chicago? Why, where are you going?"

"Philadelphia."

Bass's heart dropped. Charlie lived in Philly. "What happened?"

"Charlie's gone. She packed her bags and took off last week. Of course, I'm just now hearing about it."

"I'll be on the next flight out."

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A week later, Bass and Miles sat in Miles apartment.

"So, no leads at all?"

Sighing, Miles shook his head. "No. She took her clothes and her passport, used her and Danny's emergency credit card to make a massive withdrawal and vanished. She could be in North Korea by now. Kid covered her tracks."

"That's it?" Bass asked incredulously. "She didn't take anything else?"

Miles shook his head. "Danny mentioned some Star Wars lunch box was missing, but no phone, no iPod, nothing that could be tracked."

"Smart girl." Miles glared at him. "Hey, I'm not saying she should have ran, but at least she did it properly."

Miles just glared some more.


End file.
